


Ship of Fools

by arcielee



Category: King Kong (2005)
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:48:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28865784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcielee/pseuds/arcielee
Summary: It's 1933 and two sisters embark on a journey across the Indian Ocean to make a picture with Carl Denham and his film crew. I found my old account on ff.net and decided to edit and finish what a younger me started.
Relationships: Ann Darrow/Bruce Baxter, Jack Driscoll/OC





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter I**

**The** morning’s rays streaked through the torn lace hanging over the window and bore onto Alice Darrow’s face, its light and growing heat waking her up. She stretched her limbs and realized her sister’s side of their bed was empty. She pushed herself up to her elbow and looked around their small studio apartment; there was not a note, but instead Alice found Mr. Weston’s burlesque business card, it’s edges frayed from fidgeting. 

‘Dammit,’ she hissed, throwing aside the quilts to rush out of bed. She tore through the wardrobe, pulling out an old pair of their late father’s slacks and a worn silk blouse, throwing her light green pea coat onto the disheveled bed as she pulled on the clothes. Alice took a moment to strategically pin back her dark curls and tucked it underneath a tweed cap; she pushed her arm through the coat’s sleeves and did a quick look ever in their full length mirror. Alice perpetuated a simple New York man, successfully hiding her feminine traits enough to comfortably go out into public without being noticed. 

The leftover snow was dark with pollution, New York’s cold air and constant noise belched into her face. She walked briskly, nearly sprinting, rounding corners of familiar buildings towards Mr. Weston’s establishment, praying to reach Ann before she made a regrettable choice. There she saw her sister’s lean form holding still in the passing crowd, her head tilted slightly as she overlooked the building. ‘Ann!’ Alice cried out, pushing through and clasping her hand onto her sister’s shoulder. ‘Ann, dear God, no. Did you not hear mother screaming from her grave?’ 

‘He was right, Alice,’ Ann’s voice was small, almost tearful. ‘We don’t have to starve.’ 

‘No,’ Alice kept her voice firm. She slipped her hand down and enlaced her fingers into her sister’s and led her away. ‘Ann, that isn’t necessary. I have my pressman apprenticeship that is starting and I am sure we can manage on that-’ 

‘Until they realize you’re not actually a man,’ she was not sharp with her words, but merely pointing out the obvious. ‘Oh, Alice, I am so hungry.’ 

Alice swallowed hard; she was also hungry and it had been four days since their last, proper meal. Mostly they rationed the bit they could receive at the soup kitchens, but even after waiting in line for so long did not guarantee them anything. She looked at Ann and the desolation in her blue eyes scared her, she was always the more sanguine one with a ceaseless optimism, until this moment. 

She pulled at her hand and Ann followed her passively as they made their way towards the strip of busy booths, merchants pushing their product to be sold to a ravaged economy. ‘Sister, we will be fine,’ she squeezed Ann’s hand and looked to where her eyes were resting, on a basket with apples that had begun to brown. ‘We have survived much worse,’ she said softly, using her free hand to lift an apple and slip it into the pocket of her coat. 

Ann’s eyes were wide, but she stayed quiet and they started to move away when a sharp, ‘Hey!’ tore through them. The vendor grabbed Ann’s elbow and she paled as he belted, ‘You gonna pay for that?’ Alice gaped for words, her mind racing with how to respond when a man pushed between the altercation, a dime pinched between his forefinger and thumb. ‘Miss,’ he said loudly. ‘I believe you dropped this.’ 

The vendor reluctantly released his grip and Alice ushered her sister away, Ann rubbing her arm. The rescuer followed them. ‘Thank you so much, sir. It,’ Alice hesitated. ‘It was a misunderstanding, really. If you have a business card or contact you, surely I can repay you-’ 

He held up his hand, a smile on his rather round face stretched from cheek to cheek. He was a few inches shorter than the girls; his teeth had the slightest spacing but his smile seemed genuine, his eyes were two dollops of melted milk chocolate tucked under severe, dark brows. ‘Nonsense,’ his tone was as good natured to match his demeanor. ‘Let me be chivalrous and allow this streak to continue. Would you ladies permit me to buy you supper?’ 

Before Alice could graciously decline, Ann’s stomach spoke for them both. ‘Oh, yes please,’ she cried, slipping her hand into his offered elbow. Alice trailed behind them, reluctant from the stranger’s kindness but relieved to see the light return to her sister; she still eyed the man warily. 

The conversation was pleasant as they came up to a small café. The man introduced himself as Carl Denham and he had a keen interest when Ann mentioned her stage career. They seated at a small table, removing their coats and Alice removing her cap; the conversation was clean and Denham continued with follow ups for Ann and her, ‘obvious natural talent for theatre.’ Alice strived for indifference, but that melted away as soon as the hot dish was set in front of her and she allowed herself to smile at the conversation. 

‘Vaudeville, eh?’ Denham sipped at his saucer as the Darrow sisters heartedly cleaned their plates. ‘Comedy is an easy transition to drama. It allows you an array of emotions to be played. I actually have worked vaudeville before,’ he continued. ‘Once, really. It was a tough audience; if you don’t kill them fast, they kill you.’ 

Ann’s forlorn attitude was all gone as she nodded enthusiastically, but as she chewed, Alice was quick to intervene. ‘Mr. Denham, I want it to be known that we’re not in the habit of accepting charity from strangers.’ A blush crept up in her pale, rounded cheeks with her bold words, ‘Or, for the matter, don’t usually take things that do not belong-’ 

He batted away her words, ‘It was obviously a terrible misunderstanding.’ 

Ann saw her sister struggling for words and cleared her throat, ‘What my sister is trying to say, is that we will repay you, but funds are a little tight for the moment. I am out of work just for now, I just finished a play at Pitkin’s and haven’t yet found a follow up…’ 

His voice changed to a feigned sincerity, ‘That’s just awful to hear, my dear Miss Darrow.’ He squared off to face Ann solely. ‘Anyway, Ann-may I call you Ann?’ She had taken a bite and nodded yes. His voice dropped, ‘You wouldn’t happen to be a size four by any chance…?’ 

They both stopped mid-chew. Alice was up and grabbed their coats, Alice dropped her fork as if it were a snake, the silver clanking against the ceramic plate. 

As they put back on their coats, his hands flew up in an apologetic gesture, ‘No! Wait! Oh God, no! My dear Darrows, I did not mean to offend!’ He pleaded. ‘You ladies have me all wrong! Please, I am not that type of man at all!’ 

‘And what type of man are you exactly?’ Alice snapped, helping Ann into her beige winter coat. 

‘I’m someone you can trust, Alice,’ he pawed at his pockets and withdrew a business card. ‘I’m actually a movie producer.’ The sisters exchanged skeptical looks as he gestured for them to take the extended card, which Ann finally did. ‘I am in production right now and we need a leading lady.’ He noted how Ann’s eyes shone at his words and barreled on. ‘I want you to imagine a handsome explorer bound for the Far East.’ 

‘You’re filming in the far east?’ Alice’s tone was dry and distrusting, whereas Ann was enraptured by the set up, her brilliant blue eyes widened with curiosity at his words. 

‘Well, Singapore,’ he cleared his throat. ‘On board he meets a mysterious girl. She’s both beautiful, but fragile...haunted even.’ 

The seated themselves; Ann fell into her seat, suddenly swept up by the story and Alice begrudgingly followed suit. 

He straightened himself for his regained audience and continued, ‘She cannot escape the feeling that forces beyond her control are compelling her down a road which she cannot draw back.’ He noted the blonde Darrow was enthralled and ignored the sister’s sharp green eyes that were still narrowed at his narration, but she remained quiet. ‘And sure enough, against her better judgement-’ 

‘She falls in love,’ Ann finished for him, in an exhale. 

‘Yes!’ He smiled. 

‘But she does not trust it,’ Alice interjected, her voice soft but her words sharp. They turned their attention to her, Denham surprised she was finally contributing to the conversation. ‘She’s not even sure if she believes in it.’ 

He was surprised that she had been listening. ‘Oh really?’ He asked, his tone slightly haughty. 

‘If she loves someone, it’s doomed,’ she continued. 

‘And why is that?’ His face was incredulous by the new narration. 

‘Because, Mr. Denham,’ Alice locked her eyes on him. ‘Good things never last.’ 

Several beats of silence passed before Denham pressed, ‘Does this mean that you’re interested?’ 

Ann began to answer, but Alice was back on her feet, a tight smile played on her rose lips. ‘Good luck with your picture, Mr. Denham. Thank you kindly for the meal.’ She pocketed the business card and pulled her sister to stand. ‘We shall pay you back, eventually.’ 

‘Alice-’ Ann started, but she halted her sister and started to pull them both towards the exit of the café. 

Denham followed them, his voice pleading, ‘My dear Darrows, please! Ann, you would be perfect for the heroine, and Alice, this creative insight is exactly what we need. This would be the thrill of a lifetime with a long sea voyage included! I have a script!’ They pushed back outside and Denham continued, unabashed. ‘We have Jack Driscoll turning up a draft as we speak!’ 

Alice stopped abruptly, Ann bumping into her. ‘Jack Driscoll?’ She turned on her heel to face Denham. 

‘Oh, of course we stop for your silly playwright crush,’ Ann hissed. Alice ignored her and released her grip on her sister’s slender arm. 

‘Sure, why, I bet I could even have him write you a small role-’ 

Alice shook her head, ‘No, sir. Thank you, but there is only one Darrow actress,’ she struggled with her words. ‘Though we both love theatre, I’m more of a writer and a fan of his work. I’ve seen some of his plays, even.’ _I’ve read them all_ , she finished to herself. 

‘Oh, a writer, huh?’ He turned eagerly to face them both. ‘Let me tell you girls, Jack Driscoll has a vision and does not want just anyone for this role.’ He focused on Ann. ‘Why, he just said to me, “Carl, I know somewhere out there is a woman born to play this role!” And as soon as I saw you, Ann, I knew it.’ 

‘Knew what?’ Ann whispered, her tone gleeful for the attention to have returned to her. Alice smothered a groan, as her darling sister always seemed to bait for a compliment. 

‘It was always going to be you.' 

They conceded with continued promises of fame and the chance of becoming Mr. Driscoll’s assistant-(‘The more, the merrier!’)-and Denham whisked them into a hailed cab so they could return to their studio to pack their belongings since they were scheduled to leave that night. He waited patiently in the passenger seat while the Darrows rushed upstairs to let their landlady know of their departure and pack everything they owned into two blue suitcases and a carpet bag, that was mostly filled with Alice’s books and journals. They bid farewell to their landlady-(‘Be safe, my dear girls!’)-and piled back into the waiting cab. Ann asked questions about the film cast which Denham happily supplied answers-(‘Bruce Baxter! Oh, Alice!’). 

The day seemed to be a whirlwind of events with evening now rolling out in reds, oranges and amber across New York’s skyline as they finally reached the docks just before sunset. They carried their bags and followed Denham as they came up to a large, freshly painted liner. Ann sucked in her breath with awe, ‘Is this the moving picture ship?’ 

‘Not exactly,’ Denham said in a sheepish tone, shaking his head. ‘It’s this one over here,’ he gestured and they turned to see a more sea battered tramp of a liner, the red paint mixed with rust, and the peeling white words of SS Venture scrawled across its side. ‘But don’t let appearances deceive you, it’s much more spacious on board.’ 

Sailors swarmed them, loading and preparing the ship to leave. Denham broke away from the Darrows and went to speak with someone. 

‘I cannot believe this is happening, Alice,’ Ann gushed, her eyes still wide and glowing. 

‘I still don’t trust him, Ann. I got a queer feeling about Denham,’ Alice whispered once he was out of earshot. 

‘Oh, la, hush up! Must you always be so skeptical?’ She huffed, her pink lips forming into a rehearsed pout. ‘Did you ever think that things are finally going the way we deserve, how we have always dreamed? You get to cater to your beloved Drascell-’ 

‘Driscoll,’ Alice corrected. 

‘-and I can be what I am destined to become.’ Her eyes shone. ‘A star! Bigger than Clara Bow and Myrna Loy combined! A newer, sleeker Mae West!’ 

Before she could respond, Denham returned with another suited man and, the sisters straightened themselves at the sight of the third, a sailor who was handsome and just as weather-beaten as the Venture. He was tall with sharp, cerulean blue eyes set in a leathered face and a three day stubble that stretched across his jawline and cheeks. A cigarillo hung from his lips, his gaze was steady on the sisters, his eyes unblinking, ‘Madams,’ he said, his tone both polite and an inflection that was not immediately placed. 

‘I’m Ann Darrow,’ she blurted, finding her voice and flashing her starlet smile. ‘This is my sister Alice.’ 

His brow rose when he looked over Alice’s clothes, still in her trousers that appreciatively fit her hips, her coat jacket slung over her bag. ‘Are you ladies truly ready for this voyage?’ His words dripped with a German accent that was captivating. 

Ann laughed, ‘Of course we are. Sure.’ 

‘Nervous?’ His vow was low. 

Alice tilted her head slightly, ‘Nervous?’ She did not want her skepticism known outside of her sister. ‘No. Why would we be?’ 

The man took a step towards her, the black cigarillo now in his hand and smoke pouring from his lips. ‘I have not meant a lot of women who would take such a risk.’ 

‘I assure you,’ she kept her tone even as she waived the indirect cloud of smoke away, ‘that we can take on any risk thrown our way.’ 

The sailor smiled at her response, amused by her determination. Denham gave an incredulous look at the sailor, his expression panicked but only for a moment. The other man in a suit was gangly, with mouse brown lock neatly combed to the side and wired frames, fittingly dressed in tweed. He stepped forward, taking one of the blue suitcases, ‘Ladies, allow me to show you to your cabin.’ 

‘Wonderful idea! My dear Darrows, allow me to introduce you to my other half for this and all of my films, Mr. Preston,’ Denham chirped, eager to change the topic, and pushed the sisters to follow him. ‘Thank you, Mr. Preston.’ 

They followed him towards the boarding plank; Ann unaware and Alice looking over her shoulder back at the man with the brilliant blue eyes. He nodded in her direction, his lips still hinted with a smirk, before returning his attention to direct the rest of the crewmates. 

‘Please follow me,’ the man named Preston beckoned to the sisters. ‘If you ladies need anything at all, please do not hesitate to ask.’ He smiled at the girls, reaching to grab the other suitcase from Alice. ‘Anything at all.’


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter II**

**Preston’s** apologies were still echoing off the walls of their tiny cabin when Denham appeared in the doorway, with his signature smile, ‘Knock, knock,’ he said out loud and with good nature, though Alice could not help but cringe. ‘I thought I would stop in for a moment, we cannot have our leading lady be deprived of the necessities of life!’ He held forward a dark bottle of malt liquor and gestured for them to take it. Ann handed it over to Alice, who placed it on top of their small bureau without offering to pour. 

As Preston edged to leave the crowded room, Denham held up a hand to stop him, ‘Do me a favor and find another bottle for Jack. It’ll help him fend off his sudden migraine.’ 

‘I believe they’re still trying to find a room for him to bunk,’ he replied, sliding past him and out the doorway. 

‘Find wherever they put him, offer him the bottle and make sure he is aware that my typewriter is at his disposal!’ He rushed out new requests after him. 

‘He is aware,’ Preston’s voice echoed through the corridor. ‘He does not care!’ 

Alice felt her heart race. ‘Mr. Driscoll…?’ She masked the excitement in her voice as Denham returned his attention to her. ‘He’s on board now?’ 

‘Jack had his heart set on coming with us,’ he shrugged and waved a hand flippantly. ‘Dedication to his work and, frankly, I have a big heart so I could not say no.’ He moved to leave as well, but stopped to say, ‘I will allow you ladies your privacy to get settled in. Again, apologies for the tight quarters but with Hollywood, it’s always budget first. See you in the morning,’ and he was gone. 

Ann had her suitcase on the chair next to their dress and began to unpack, Alice took a moment to study the room: it was cozy, like the studio they left behind, but their beds were bunks that were tucked into the walls. She sat on the bottom bunk, dreamingly pulling up her carpet bag and digging into the pocket to pull out a cut out article that reviewed his play Isolation. She used a hair pin to stick it on the wall. Ann saw her in the mirror and her perfectly turned nose scrunched, ‘Oh Alice, I really don’t understand your infatuation with him. Especially with Bruce Baxter being the male lead for this film.’ She turned and moved towards her bunk, leaning over to peer at the photo paired in the article. ‘This is exactly how I remember him, perfectly, and there is no comparison between the two.’ 

She stared blankly for a moment, her face filled with a mixture of undying love for her kin and disdain at the comparison she dared verbalized. Ann, unaware of the gaze, pulled back and returned to unpacking her suitcase. Alice turned her attention back to the clipping she had saved after a shift at the press shop. Jack Driscoll was unconventionally handsome, from her perspective; his dark hair was tousled and his face was long and indifferent, almost annoyed that his picture was taken. His eyes were intense but only in black and white; she was curious as to what color they actually were. ‘Of course you wouldn’t understand it,’ she said, but mostly to herself. 

The Darrow sisters had always been close and able to find common ground, despite their apparent differences. Theatre had been that common ground. As children, Ann always brought to life the characters that Alice scrawled out to perform for their mother. 

Their parents had met in Hamburg, their father passing through on tour with the US Navy and their mother adamant to see the world. The outbreak of war rushed them to the altar and they settled in a small home in Connecticut. Ann held only a few memories of their father and Alice, being three years her junior, had even less. He was a casualty in the Great War, but their mother refused to cripple their home with grief doted on her daughters and their adamant differences. 

For women, they were considered tall, being five feet and eight inches each, though Ann liked to elongate her lean figure with pumps. She was a classic beauty; she kept her thick, golden curls in the trending bob that framed her heart shaped face and would have Alice wet it with lemons, to make it more a platinum blonde. Ann had their mother’s blue eyes, perfect like a spring day and a warm smile with pink lips, tinted with Payot. 

Alice had darker features that their mother compared to their late father. Her complexion was more alabaster and flushed easily with anger or, more often, embarrassment. Alice had more curves but she would keep them strategically hidden under their father’s wardrobe when it was clear that the work for men paid better. She took lengths to hide her femininity in his old suits; her locks were long and curled, but she would keep it pinned up and tucked away under a cap. She had her father’s eyes, as their mother would say; a dark emerald green with flecks of amber that danced around her pupils, but they were commonly mistaken as brown in her sister’s presence. 

She never minded it, though. Her sister always strived for center stage, whereas Alice preferred to be tucked away in a book. When their mother was a late casualty for the Spanish Influenza, they sold their home and packed up, with renewed dreams, to move to New York city with the ideals Ann would become a famous actress and Alice would become a playwright. They survived by bouncing around New York City, from theatre to theatre to follow the work, but the stock market crash halted that need for entertainment and Alice instead donned their father’s suits to find a job they could survive on. 

Despite their stark differences, they always remained close, now more than ever, seeming they were the only family left in the world. 

‘I cannot believe Bruce Baxter is in this film!’ Ann cut through. ‘I hope I get to kiss him. If not, perhaps you can have your darling Driscoll write it in for me.’ She sighed. ‘Make it a romantic, though, with a setting sun to frame it.’ 

Alice exhaled a laugh. ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ she promised. 

Later that night, Ann was settled in the told bunk and fell asleep easily, lulled by the rocking of the ship. Alice’s mind still raced from the day’s sudden fortune and after laying restless for a while, got up to dress, pulling out her worn copy of Heart of Darkness, a proper reread for their current setting. She tucked it into the band of her pants and then wrapped her hair up and tucked it into her tweed cap. She heard the past echo of Ann criticisms to her style, ‘Why must you look like a man outside of work? Really, sister, you should show more pride in your look.’ 

Alice found comfort in her casual look, but did not pull on the heavy dress jacket to hide under and instead she was able to leave the top buttons open and roll her sleeves. She decided to look for some lighting that would not bother her sleeping sister and stepped out to make her way towards the deck, using the corridor’s walls to steady her steps as the Venture rolled over waves. 

A fog had nestled over the deck, but it was not heavy enough to be eerie and the moonlight was prominent enough to compliment the yellow hue of the lamps that were placed throughout. She walked tentatively, searching for a spot to curl up and read when she stopped at the sight of the handsome sailor from earlier in the day. 

His back was leaned against the railing, trying to block the ocean’s breeze to light a new cigarillo. He struggled with his lighter for a moment and stopped when he noticed Alice was on deck. He looked up at her, ‘Good evening, madam.' 

Alice appreciated that the yellow hue hid her burning cheeks from his sudden attention. She moved towards him, pulling out and holding up her book. ‘May I assist?’ She offered and he nodded. She opened the book, the spine creased from years of ownership, and created a wall that allowed him to spark his lighter with ease. 

After a long drag, she dropped her arms. ‘Thank you, madam.’ His tone was genuine. 

‘My name is Alice Darrow,’ she responded. ‘And you are welcome.’ 

He leaned over the railing, the stogie poised between his fingers and the smoke rolling away in soft curls that dissipated in the gentle breeze. ‘Alright, Alice Darrow,’ he tried her name. ‘What brings you up to the deck at this hour?’ 

‘Oh,’ she was surprised at the attempt for conversation; she tucked her novel back into the band of her trousers and followed suit to rest her forearms on the railing. ‘Well, today has been a bit of a rush for us and I am still too wired to sleep just yet. I figured I would read a bit to unwind, but I didn’t want to bother Ann.’ She peered over to him and added, ‘My sister.’ 

He did not return the look and instead took a long drag. 

She let the silence sit for a moment as she scrambled through the broken German their oma attempted to teach them as children when she would visit. ‘Wie heißt du?’ She struggled with the words. 

He finally looked over at her, his expression surprised. ‘Ich heiße Lars Engelhorn,’ he answered. ‘Wie viel Deutsch weißt du?’ 

‘No very much,’ she confessed. ‘I picked up a bit as a kid when our oma would visit, back when she was alive. My father met our mother when he was passing through, but he brought her back to the states when they married.’ 

‘Your accent isn’t terrible,’ which was a very German compliment. ‘Where are your parents now?’ 

‘They are both gone,’ she broke his gaze and instead admired the white tip waves that gently batted against the side of the ship. ‘My father died in the Great War. I really have no memory of him, though Ann does a bit.’ 

‘Did he serve?’ 

She nodded, ‘He was a Navyman.’ 

‘But this is your first time aboard a ship?’ 

She laughed and it echoed out into the night, ‘Is it that apparent?’ 

Lars smiled politely, ‘You are not very steady on your feet, despite your apparent fearlessness.’ He seemed to be teasing and she blushed again. He pushed away from the railing and offered his elbow. ‘Come with me,’ it was not a request, ‘Let me show you where I go when I need a moment alone.’ 

She slipped her hand into the nook offered and walked with him. ‘It does seem crowded. I bet only the captain has private quarters.’ 

‘That I do,’ she was not surprised to learn he was Captain, remembering how he commanded the men earlier in the day, ‘however, they are just as equally cramped and I have always preferred the sea air.’ He smiled and stopped in front of some barrels and a folded tarp, set up underneath one of the lamps. ‘Here we are. Safe away from the edge and plenty of lighting.’ 

She let go and propped herself to lean her back against a barrel, ‘Thank you, Captain Engelhorn-’ 

He stopped her, ‘Madam, you may call me Lars whenever my men are not around.’ He was teasing again, but before she could respond, he excused himself and walked off to disappear below. She watched him leave and nestled against the barrel to open her book to the beginning and slowly she disappeared into Joseph Conrad’s fiction. She jerked awake, not even remembering she dozed, to see a silhouette hovering over her. Young, slender hands held her book and it was several beats before he dropped the book and took off. 

She bounded to her feet, grabbing the novel, and followed him. ‘Hey! You, wait a minute!’ He slipped back under deck and she kept after him, slamming into a large, broad man who took up the width of the hallway. 

In a dark, brown voice, he asked, ‘Where are you running to, miss?’ 

Her cheeks were flushed and she realized, in pursuit, she had lost her cap; her dark locks fell on her shoulder in a disheveled mess. ‘There was someone, or something, that I thought I saw,’ her voice was even as she leaned her head back to be able to look up into his black eyes. 

The man shook his head and stepped aside to show a young man with sandy blonde hair and a tangy scent of saltwater and cigarette smoke, hunched to the side and sullen from being caught. ‘Was he bothering you?’ He jerked his thumb at him. 

Her heart went to him and she thought of the apple and the feeling of wanting something so desperately. Alice shook her head, ‘Oh no, I actually wanted to give him this.’ She held out her book. ‘I had noticed him eyeing this,’ she lied, ‘and thought he should have it. I have read it to the point of memorization.’ She stretched herself out a little farther, but he still did not take it, so instead the huge man took it and thumped it into his chest. 

‘What do you say, Jimmy?’ His tone commanded a response. 

He looked at Alice, his hazel eyes unreadable, ‘Thank you, miss…’ 

‘Alice Darrow,’ she replied brightly, extending her hand. 

‘I am Captain Englehorn’s first mate, Mr. Hayes,’ he responded, his dark and wide hand engulfing hers in a shake. ‘The pleasure is ours, but he won’t be bothering you again.’ 

‘Oh, no, really,’ her words rushed out, breathless. ‘He wasn’t bothering me at all. I just hope he enjoys the book like I have.’ Mr. Hayes sidestepped to let her pass them both. ‘It is late though, goodnight gentlemen.’ 

She found her room and slipped in silently, changing back into her night dress. As she curled into her bunk, her sister gave a half-awaken, ‘Good evening, Mr. Baxter,’ before drifting back into unconsciousness. She listened to her sister’s steady breathing, trying to empty her mind from the day’s events, when a soft _taptaptap_ caught her attention. 

She peered at the door, deciding if someone was truly there, and at this hour, or if it was the continuing orchestra of the ship’s noises at sea, when he heard the softest voice say, ‘Miss Alice Darrow?’ 

Alice was quick to bound out of bed and slip into her bathrobe. She opened the door to see the young man Jimmy frozen mid-step as he was leaving. They stared a moment and finally he stretched out to hand her the book, Heart of Darkness. ‘I apologize, miss, for earlier. I was watchin’ you read earlier and you seemed so happy. It wasn’t right for me to take it and it wasn’t right for you to lie to Mr. Hayes,’ he exhaled. ‘I can’t read, anyway.’ 

She watched him struggle with his apology and chose her words carefully. ‘Jimmy,’ her voice was low so not to wake her sister. ‘Would you like me to teach you how to read?’ He looked skeptical and she continued, ‘I know everyone is busy with the film, but perhaps when our day is done? In the evening time?’ 

‘Really, miss-?’ 

‘I would enjoy nothing more,’ she pushed the book back towards him. ‘And I insist you keep this, because this is where we will start.’ He smiled and held it to his chest. ‘Goodnight, Jimmy.’ 

‘Goodnight, Miss Alice Darrow.’


End file.
